


If You're Out On The Road

by HawthorneWhisperer



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gilmore Girls Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthorneWhisperer/pseuds/HawthorneWhisperer
Summary: A gadge Gilmore Girls AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Because marycontrary82, virgemhoneyee, anonalece, and catreadsbooks all wanted Gilmore Girls Gadge. Special thanks to bleedtoloveher for her quick beta work. (Originally published on tumblr 1/14/15).

“May, where’s my shirt?”

“Which one?  The red one or the green one with the thingies?”

“The purple one.  With the stuff on it,” Madge clarified from where she was rummaging in her daughter’s drawers. 

May rolled her eyes with the full force of her fifteen years.  “That one’s in your room.  I never take that one.”

“But I already looked there.  You have to have it.”

“Wait, you mean the purple shirt?  With that…stuff?” May asked.

“Yes!  That one!  Where is it?”

“You wore it three days ago.  Mom, we’re gonna be laaaaaate,” May whined.  “Just wear the green one.  It’ll be fine, I promise.  Here,” she said and pulled the green shirt from her closet.  “Now put it on and let’s go.  I’m not up to dealing with Capitol Academy on an empty stomach and Gale isn’t going to be able to keep our breakfast warm forever.”

Madge stuck her tongue out at May once her head popped through the top of her shirt. “You’re too responsible, kid,” she said.  “I should work on that.  Convince you to do something stupid.  Maybe dye your hair pink while you sleep.”

“We’ll have time for irresponsibility later,” May sniffed.  She tossed her curly strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder and adjusted the straps on her backpack.  “Let’s _go_.” 

Madge grabbed her purse and followed her daughter out of the house, still buttoning her blazer.  She didn’t have to be at the inn until ten but May’s bus left at seven thirty, which meant leaving the house at the ungodly hour of seven am.  May had no trouble being up and ready by then, but Madge had always struggled with the world before mid-morning.  She probably could have been a more responsible mother and at least bought the fixings for cereal, but breakfast at Hawthorne’s had become part of their routine.  It wouldn’t feel right to start the day any other way, no matter how often Gale scowled at them and claimed that they were well on their way to a diabetic coma.

 

Sae waved from outside her dance studio and Madge wanted to stop and chat—she was dying to know if Delly and Thom were _finally_ going out and Sae would definitely have the scoop—but May was powerwalking like her life depended on it so Madge hurried up and tucked her arm through May’s.  “When did you get so responsible?” she teased, although she really did wonder where it came from.  It certainly wasn’t from Madge (she of the teenage pregnancy and inability to stop whatever was in her brain from coming out of her mouth) and it wasn’t from Darius (he of the rock band and constant, “no, this year is our year,” protestations) either.

“One of us had to be or else nothing would ever get done,” May volleyed back and affectionately leaned her head on Madge’s shoulder.  They were about the same height now and Madge still had a hard time believing that the tiny bundle they’d placed in her arms when she was just a kid herself was now practically grown.  Madge didn’t like that very much.

They swept into Hawthorne’s diner and Gale caught their eye.  He ducked into the back and reappeared with a plate of waffles and strawberries for Madge and a stack of blueberry pancakes for May.  He set them down just as they took their seats at their usual table in the corner.  He poured Madge her customary giant cup of coffee and set a travel cup of coffee (with cream and more sugar than a human should consume in one sitting, as he was fond of pointing out) next to May.  “She’s too young for this.  It’s gonna stunt her growth,” he told Madge grumpily, like this was new information and he didn’t tell her that four times a week.

“Good thing I’m done growing then,” May said cheerily and tore into her pancakes.  Gale gave her a half smile and ruffled her hair as he turned away.  May finished her pancakes in record time and grabbed her coffee.  “Gotta go,” she said and hastily kissed Madge’s cheek as she ran out the door.  “Bye, Gale!” she called and he raised the coffee pot  in lieu of a wave. 

Since Madge still had two and a half hours before she had to be anywhere, she sat back and watched the familiar hustle and bustle of Hawthorne’s during the morning rush.  Gale stopped by to refill her coffee twice before she finished.  “How’s she liking Capitol?” he asked the second time he came by, once the rush had somewhat dissipated. 

“She likes it,” Madge admitted.  Sending May to Capitol had a price tag a lot higher than just money, but Madge was willing to put up with weekly torture sessions with her parents if it meant making May happy.

“Your mom leaving you alone?”  Gale asked as he sank into the chair next to hers.

“Fat chance of that happening,” Madge gripped.  Last Friday Madge had made an off hand comment about something her Aunt Maysilee had told her once and her mother had just sighed heavily.  “You always did prefer Maysilee to me,” Emily Undersee had murmured.  _Of course I did_ , Madge had thought.  _Aunt Maysi had tattoos and followed bands around the country.  You made me go to cotillion._   “Everyone always did,” her mother said mournfully, as if Madge had voiced her thoughts out loud.  That sort of blunt honesty discomfited Madge, even if it was the truth. Maysilee Donner had hilarious stories about drunk rock stars; Emily Undersee had stories about tea with the DAR.  Maysilee’s death when Madge was only twelve had devastated them both, but in different ways.  Emily threw herself into being the most proper woman in all of Connecticut and Madge had thrown herself into being the most Maysilee she could ever be, culminating in a teenage pregnancy that had functionally ended her relationship with Emily Undersee for nearly fourteen years.

“You could always do dinner here, you know,” Gale offered.  “Maybe deflect some of your shortcomings by feeding them in a place with vinyl flooring.  Give your mom something else to complain about for a change.” 

Madge patted his arm absently.  “I’ll keep it in mind,” she said and gulped the rest of her coffee.

“Sae stopped by earlier—she said you need to come by her place today.  Important information, apparently,” Gale said drily.  “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.  Thanks Gale,” she said and breezed out of Hawthorne’s, wondering exactly when a surly diner owner had become her closest friend in the world.

 

***

 

It had always been Darius.  It was always going to be Darius.  Not right away, obviously—one of them should go to college, or at least try, Madge had reasoned when they found out that whiskey plus unprotected sex equaled a baby—but eventually.  Once he got his shit together.  And it wasn’t that he didn’t love May.  He did–fiercely.  He just wasn’t around much, was all.  First it was high school and the fact that his parents frowned upon him driving a half hour from town to visit his girlfriend and illegitimate baby (they never really did get over the shock and never wanted to even meet May, not that Madge cared.  She had enough uptight WASPS in her life as it was) after Madge ran away.  Then it was two years of college down in Boston.  He usually managed to make it up to Panem every few months or so, but then he dropped out to move to California with his prog-punk fusion band and his parents cut him off so he really couldn’t afford to fly back and see them.  He called every week though, even when May was too little to do more than babble into the phone.

Two years after Darius moved to California, Madge told herself she was done waiting for him, but that was a lie.  She had always secretly pictured them together, even after everything.  May deserved to have her father in her life and when she and Darius were good, they were _good_.  They were each other’s first loves.  It was destiny.

She tried not to get her hopes up when he called an announced he was moving back to Boston.  And when he told her he had a job (an actual, honest to god _job_ , with health insurance and a 401k and everything) she told herself it _wasn’t_ a sign.  And when Darius rode into town on his motorcycle she firmly told her heart to stop skipping a beat.

She should have tried harder, even though he spent three days in Panem making life seem like that was what it could be.  May had a long weekend off from Capitol Academy and they spent it together, just the three of them.  They laughed and bantered about music and May was positively _floating_ because her father was back.  They spent three days as the family they should have been (well, almost—Darius stayed at the inn at night.  But he did cook for them, including breakfast.  It was perfect) and then it all came crashing down at once.

Darius had a girlfriend.  A serious one.  One into whose apartment he had moved when he moved to Boston, because they had been seeing each other for over a _year_ but never once in his weekly chats with May—and semi-weekly chats with Madge—had he even thought to mention it.

And now his girlfriend was pregnant.  She had gone to her mother’s for the long weekend to think and Darius had come to _them_ , to his _other_ family, to help make up his mind.  “I missed so much of May’s life, Madge,” he’d pleaded.  “I can’t miss it with this one.”

Because in the end, Madge and May weren’t his family.  They were a mistake he’d made his junior year of high school; a learning experience so he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.  Madge clenched her jaw tightly as Darius said good bye to May and got back on his motorcycle and left them behind, again.  That was what he always did—he played at being a family, but he didn’t want _this_ family, and that hurt.

“I’m going for a walk,” Madge announced, probably too brightly.  May nodded absently, already wrapped up in her homework.  She was used to Darius leaving, Madge realized.  More used to it than Madge herself, and that made her furious because her daughter shouldn’t just blithely accept her father walking out this easily.

Madge walked the streets blindly, blinking back tears.  She had just rounded a corner when Gale stopped her.  He was standing in front of Hawthorne’s, keys in his hand.  “You all right?” he asked.  Madge nodded and tried to surreptitiously wipe her eyes.  Gale raised his eyebrows.  “No, you aren’t.  Come on in,” he ordered.

Madge complied because if she stayed out much longer Sae would see and then the whole town would know about Madge Undersee’s mental breakdown. She followed Gale into the diner that was now only lit from the kitchen, an eerie white light putting the upturned chairs into sharp relief as she slid onto a stool.  Gale poured her a cup of coffee without asking and for once she didn’t tease him for leaving the coffee maker on until after he locked up.

(She knew he did it for her.  Madge was the only one in town flighty enough to stop by as he was locking up and beg for one last cup.)

Gale handed her the mug and rested his forearms on the counter.  “I take it the jackass took off again?”

Madge’s tempered flared.  She was angry with Darius but it was _her_ anger, not Gale’s.  “What makes you say that?” she snapped.

“Not too hard to figure out.  He was here and now he isn’t, and you’re crying.”

“It’s none of your goddamn business,” she snapped.

“It is if you end up crying at my counter,” Gale pointed out, not unkindly.

“You’re the one that invited me in.”

“You’re the one that showed up on my doorstep in tears.”

Madge reeled back from that, because she hadn’t been going anywhere in particular.  Not really.  She certainly hadn’t gone straight to Hawthorne’s because she knew Gale would be there with the last pot of the day still warm.  Right?  She set the mug down and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes.  “Darius has a girlfriend.  And she’s pregnant,” she admitted.  She felt like a fool, parading her family around town only for it to fall apart, again.

“That _bastard_ ,” Gale exploded.  “No, don’t stop me.  That goddamn _bastard_.  Hasn’t he ever heard of condoms?”  Madge opened her mouth to protest (after all, she’d been there too, at least for May) but Gale barreled on.  “Why on earth do you let him do this to you?”

“ _Because that’s how it was supposed to be,_ ” Madge burst out, the unshed sobs painful in her chest.  “Me.  Darius.  May.  A family.  I thought—god, I thought this time was for real.  He’s her _father_ , Gale.”

“Hardly,” Gale snorted.  Something flashed in his eyes and they grew darker, boring into her until she had to look away.  “So you’ve always been waiting on him, huh?”

A shiver went down Madge’s spine, knowing Gale was remembering the same moment.  A five year old May asleep in his arms as he helped carry May home and put her to bed while Madge wrestled with a giant bag of leftovers from Sae’s annual potluck. 

Gale leaning in to kiss her and Madge springing out of the way, mumbling something about not being ready to date with May so young.

“He’s her father,” she repeated quietly, and Gale let it drop.  He changed the subject to the upcoming town meeting, where he and Effie Trinkett were bound to get into another long disagreement about town spirit, camaraderie, and Gale’s lack thereof. 

Madge finished her coffee and thanked him as he switched off the last of the lights.

She walked home, trying not to imagine what her life would be like if she had reacted differently ten years ago.

 

***

 

“No.  Absolutely not.  You are not leaving Capitol.  Not if you want to continue living in my house,” Madge said angrily, wondering when she had learned to imitate Emily Undersee so perfectly.  _I’ll never give my daughter an ultimatum,_ she’d yelled at Emily two months before she ran away and here she was, doing the exact same thing.

Their fight was even about a boy, because May had come home from school and announced that she was considering transferring back to Panem High but refused to give a reason until Madge had pestered her for hours and May exploded in annoyance.  Apparently some big dumb idiot with a pick-up had told May she was pretty and now May wanted to throw everything away and leave the school she had nearly killed herself to get into, all so she could spend the day with some boy.  Madge knew her reaction was a little out of proportion, but she had been fifteen not too long ago.  Fifteen and in love was a dangerous combination, especially when you were, at heart, a Donner girl.  Maysilee Donner had run off from their trailer park when she was only seventeen with a dark haired charmer; she never finished high school and after she turned twenty she never saw him again, although she’d breezily informed Madge once that she never regretted using him as her ticket out.  Emily Donner had transformed herself into the perfect upper-crust wife when she met Richard Undersee, so much so that no one ever would have guessed Emily Undersee grew up with only one pair of shoes each year and met her husband not at a mixer at Vassar but as a cocktail waitress in New Haven.  And then Madge had spent the ages of thirteen to sixteen sneaking out of stuffy parties with Darius and getting drunk.  He had the right pedigree for her parents but everything else about him—his smile, his music, his attitude—suited Madge to a T.

Men were an escape when you were a Donner girl, and Madge was terrified that now May wanted to escape from her.  May crossed her arms and tossed her hair.  “Then maybe I’ll run away,” she yelled.  “You did.”    And with that May stomped into her room and slammed the door.

Madge sunk into the nearby kitchen chair and tried to slow down her racing thoughts.  May wasn’t as stupid as she had been as a teenager, she knew that.  This was a girl that asked for a day planner for Christmas when she was eight just so she could make a daily schedule for herself.  But boys were not something Madge had ever had to deal with and she had panicked.  When Madge felt calm enough to try again she opened May’s door hesitantly, worried about how quiet she was.

And with good reason, because May was…gone.  Her window was open, letting in the cold late-October air.  Madge swore to herself and grabbed her jacket, hoping that May had just snuck out for a walk and wasn’t really running away like she threatened.  She checked May’s usual spots—her reading tree, Lane’s house (of course Lane’s mother gave Madge a look that let her know _exactly_ what she thought of a woman who didn’t know where her daughter was) and the dock at the pond—but no luck.  Madge was just wondering if she needed to call in reinforcements when she walked past Gale’s and there, sitting at the counter, was a mop of curly, reddish blonde hair.  Gale was across the counter, leaning towards her, his face concerned. 

Suddenly furious for reasons that had little to do with May’s new boyfriend, Madge stormed in.  “Maysilee Donner Undersee, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.  She was lucky the diner was empty, or else the whole town would probably be gathered outside the windows to watch the show in a matter of minutes. 

Gale looked perturbed by her outburst.  “Madge, it’s fine—“ he started, but she kept her eyes on her daughter.

“You do _not_ sneak out of the house, Maysilee,” she continued, using May’s full name as much as possible for maximum you’re-in-trouble weight.  “You use the door like a goddamn human being, and you _tell your mother where you’re going_.”

May gave her a withering stare.  “It’s Panem, Mom.  And I came to _Gale’s_.  Don’t act like I could have been murdered in the last hour.”

“Not the point, young lady.”  _Young lady?  Good lord, she really was Emily Undersee._   “Home.  Now.  I’ll be there in a minute.”

May tossed her hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes.  “Whatever.  Thanks for the coffee, Gale,” she said and flounced out the door, leaving Madge and her fury alone with Gale.

“Madge, it’s four in the afternoon.  I think you might be overreacting a bit,” Gale said in what he clearly thought was a soothing tone.  (It wasn’t.)

“What the hell were you thinking, letting her sit here without telling me where she was?  I was _worried sick_.”  That last bit was a bit of an exaggeration—it was the middle of the day in a town of 2,000 people where the biggest crime was Effie Trinkett’s idea of fashion—but the real reason for her anger ( _May_ _chose him_.  _She chose him over me_ ) was too deep and too painful to say out loud.

“Oh for crying out loud.  First, it’s the middle of the day.  Second, I didn’t know she’d run off, okay?  If I had, I would have called.  She just said you guys had a fight and she needed a place to cool off,” Gale snapped back, irritation threaded through his tone.

But Madge’s rage (and fear) went so much deeper than that.  May had run away from her and straight to _him_ , like it was the most natural thing in the world.  Like he was family.  Like he meant more to the Undersee women than Madge could bring herself to admit, and _that_ was what had her spooked.  “You’re not her father,” she spat at him and a spasm of fury crossed his face.

“I might as well be,” he said softly; dangerously.  Gale threw down the towel he had in his hands and skirted the counter.  “I’m more of a father to that girl than that _jackass_ ever was,” he sneered as he paced towards her, and there it was.  Right there, staring her in the face.  Madge had worked so hard to avoid this moment, never looking at it head on.  Memories flashed behind her eyelids—Gale, teaching May how to ride the bike Darius had bought for her.  Gale, coming over in the middle of the night because May saw a mouse in her room and neither of them could sleep until someone took care of it (they insisted he capture it and let it go outside, although Madge had always had her doubts about Ralph the Mouse’s fate).  Gale, helping May with her fourth grade homework on Thursday afternoons when Madge had to work late at the Inn.  Gale, standing in Madge’s living room ten years ago with a look in his eyes that threatened to devour her whole and terrified her because more than anything, she _wanted_  him to, but she couldn’t.  Not if she was going to get her dream of Darius and May and her, together as a family.

“Well, she’s not,” Madge said desperately, backing away from Gale.  “She’s not your daughter and I’m sorry your family moved away and left you with a diner you never wanted, but you don’t get to take _my_ family because you miss yours,” she hissed evilly.

Gale stopped abruptly, as if he’d been slapped.  “Get out,” he growled, and Madge seized the opportunity.  She nearly ran from the diner, certain that she’d just broken everything.

***

Three months.  Three months and two weeks, actually.  That was how long it had been since Madge had stepped foot in Hawthorne’s diner.  She and May had reconciled that night, because while their fights were always furious, they were also fast ( _Fast and furious.  That’s us, Mom, minus the cars, because cars are dumb)_.  And the boy, as it turned out, wasn’t awful.  He was sweet and respectful; the sort of boy you hoped your daughter’s first boyfriend would be.   May agreed to stay at Capitol, and all was right with the Undersee women once again.

But she couldn’t go see Gale.  Not after what she said.  Madge could hold a grudge with the best of them (one of the many talents she’d inherited from her mother) but this was so much more than a grudge.  For one thing, she hated that he was right.  Gale had been the father that Darius could never have been, even if he was around (which, her brain insisted on reminding her, he hadn’t been).  But more than that, Madge couldn’t bring herself to look in Gale’s eyes and see what she’d lost.  So she avoided the diner, letting May pick up their breakfasts from Gale and bringing home whatever Peeta made at the inn for dinner.  It wasn’t the same, and May kept badgering her to make up with Gale.  ( _Whatever you said I’m sure you guys can work past this.  It’s Gale, Mom.  It’s Gale._ )  But Madge couldn’t, so she didn’t.

Not until New Year’s Eve, when May spent the night at Lane’s and Madge found herself going stir-crazy with cabin fever.  There were only so many times a person could watch _Bring It On_ , no matter how wonderful that movie was.  It was snowing, the sort of big, fluffy flakes that just begged for someone to take a walk, so Madge gave in and bundled herself up.

Later (much later) Madge would admit that she went straight to Gale’s on purpose, but at the time, she told herself that it was a coincidence.  It was closed for the evening but Gale was still there, wiping down the counter top.  She knocked and he looked up, his expression difficult to read in the dim light, but he let her in anyway.

“There’s no coffee,” he said by way of greeting.  “I stopped doing that.”

 _Ouch_.  _Fair enough_.  “I didn’t come for coffee,” Madge said meekly, unwinding her scarf and shaking the snowflakes from her hair.  The moisture was making her hair wavy, she knew, and wavy-when-wet meant frizzy-when-dry, but she didn’t care about that now.  Not much, anyway.  “I came to apologize.”  Gale returned to wiping down the counter and didn’t so much as look at her.  Madge took a deep breath and released it slowly through her nose.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have said what I said that day.  None of it.  The truth is, you _are_ more of a father to May than Darius, and that hurts to admit.”  Gale stopped moving but kept his head down, focused intently on the counter.  “And you’ve been a good friend to me all these years—a better friend than I deserved.”

Gale finally looked up and walked around the counter.  “A friend?” he asked, and there it was again—that look in his eye.  A look she’d denied ten years ago.  A look that had haunted her ever since.

Madge gathered her courage and closed the distance between them.  “Maybe.  Maybe…more,” she admitted, and brought her hand to his cheek.  His jaw was rough with his ever-present stubble and his eyes fluttered closed.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice haggard and his eyes still closed.

“Yes,” she whispered, and then he was kissing her, hard and soft and sweet all at once.  She lost herself in it, drinking him in, reveling in the contrast between his rough stubble and the soft, insistent pressure of his lips.

Later, Madge lay curled up next to Gale in his bed while the snow piled up outside.  She nuzzled his chest again, still not believing that it was real.  He ran his fingers through her hair (now dry and definitely frizzy but for once she didn’t give a damn) and cleared his throat.  “I was thinking,” he said as he worked out a tangle.  “You were right about one thing.  I never really wanted to run a diner, I just…it was my dad’s, you know?  And when Ma and the kids moved away, I didn’t have the heart to change it.”

“Mmhmmm,” she encouraged, pressing open mouth kisses along his shoulder.

“Anyway, I was thinking.  The diner was Dad’s dream, not mine.  But I think it’s time I change that up.  I’m thinking a hardware store, actually.”  _That_ got Madge’s attention.  Her eyes got big and her head snapped up, which only made Gale chuckle.  “Don’t worry, I’ll still cook for my girls.  Someone has to, anyway, or you’ll both die of gout before you’re forty,” he teased.  Madge giggled and craned her neck for another slow kiss, deliriously happy.

Maybe it wasn’t what she’d pictured, but maybe this was better.


End file.
